I took my new FiveFingers with me to the office today, and about half way through the day I put them on. I felt vaguely transgressive.
How pathetic is it that my shoe choices seem transgressive? What's worse, how pathetic is it that I enjoyed feeling vaguely transgressive?
I'm acting out by wearing shoes. How's that for a deep and meaningful rebellion? Not so much, is it?
We're going to retreat tomorrow to the sportsman's (yes, man's) club with the deer ass (and many other dead animal parts) on the wall, because that's how we roll here.
I may wear my new FiveFingers, and enjoy the vague transgressiveness.
They are increasingly comfy.
I've been wondering why I have had Psycho Killer stuck in my head all day.
ReplyDeleteClicked on this blog and realized why.
Run run run run run run run away
OH OH OH
I'd wear your five fingers and make pointed comments about dead animal parts--and ostentatiously produce vegetarian food to eat in preference to the platter of death they'll serve you**
ReplyDelete**(BTW, I'm an unreformed but guilt-ridden carnivore).
Oh, ugh...that user name was a complete and bizarre and ironic accident; I had to create a name for college misery, and I didn't realize it would come up here.
ReplyDeleteThis is Peter who sometimes posts replies here.
Nicole, I was thinking more Monty Python and the Holy Grail... but whatever works!
ReplyDeletePeter, the platter of death was more a long term coronary thing: donuts. I didn't stay for lunch, and managed to exercise self-control re the donuts (I stayed at least ten feet away, and thus well out of arm's reach).